


Hiding Spot

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Hiding Spot [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Fuck Yeah Frottage, Hiding in a non-metaphorical closet, Not exactly smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: I squirmed slightly, trying to adjust my holster so that it wasn’t digging into my thigh, and Sam made a low, pained noise, like I’d hurt him somehow.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/You
Series: Hiding Spot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552537
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Hiding Spot

I held an ear to the door, but there was nothing, just Sam’s breathing, slow and shallow in the confined space; with his chest pressed to my back, I could feel the rise and fall of each careful inhale and exhale. 

“We should probably wait, just to be sure,” I whispered, as quietly as I possibly could. 

“Right,” Sam said. I felt the rumble of the word more than I heard it. 

Which… wow. Okay. Maybe there hadn’t been many options, with the whole running-and-hiding thing, but Sam had picked what might’ve been the smallest closet in the history of closets as a hiding spot. The two of us were wedged in so tightly that I was completely sandwiched between the door and Sam’s body. 

I squirmed slightly, trying to adjust my holster so that it wasn’t digging into my thigh, and Sam made a low, pained noise, like I’d hurt him somehow. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he hissed, and I could hear the way he was gritting his teeth around the word. 

I shifted my weight slightly, and - 

Oh. 

Oh, sweet baby Jesus. 

I couldn’t help but lean back against him just a little more. He was holding himself rigid, every muscle frozen.

I told myself to let it go, ignore it, laugh it off… there was no fucking way this was actually happening. 

Sam’s fingers brushed the curve of my hip, and then his hand came to rest there, gently, like he wasn’t sure if he could touch. I stood on my tiptoes, fitting myself more snugly against his body, and he exhaled sharply, deafening in the dark. 

I could  _ feel _ him. I could feel the length of him pressed against my ass (and Christ on a cracker was  _ length _ the right word) and when I rocked back experimentally, just a little, I could feel the way his cock twitched, getting harder and hotter with every second. 

Sam’s right hand slid forward, his big palm flattening over my belly and pulling me closer, and the flash of arousal that shot through me was so sudden and strong it was almost painful. I whimpered involuntarily. His other hand curled over my hipbone and down my thigh, dragging hot over the denim, holding me in place. I rolled my hips, rubbing my ass against the thickness of his cock. 

“You gotta stop that,” he breathed. 

“Why?” I asked. 

The hand that was on my stomach dipped lower, and he tucked the very tips of his long fingers under the waistband of my jeans. I squirmed. 

“Your room is next to mine,” Sam whispered. 

“Wait, what?” I gasped, grinding back again, desperate for friction. “I can be quiet, I swear.” 

“You’re nowhere near as quiet as you think when you’re getting off. And… the things I want to do to you right now…” 

I groaned. Sam’s hand flew up to cover my mouth, rough and insistent.

“You make this  _ noise _ ,” he growled, low against my ear. “When you’re close, you make this noise like you’re crying, like you can’t fucking take it, and I just… god, every time, I get so hard, I can’t help it.” 

I tried to speak, but it came out garbled against Sam’s hand. He lowered it slightly and I took a deep breath before admitting, “I’m usually thinking about you.” 

His hips jerked forward, the ridge of his cock steely-hot against my ass, and I arched my back shamelessly. 

“I could gag you right now,” he suggested, velvety and promising. I let out a shuddery sigh. “Gag you and just… pull your jeans down, fuck you right here against the door, just like this.” 

I braced myself, getting my forearms against the door so that I could push back, encouraging him silently. 

Sam was practically panting, breathing fast and ragged. He splayed a hand over my breastbone, forcing me to straighten up, and leaned down so that he could whisper right against my ear: “I don’t want you to hold back, though. I want to hear you. I want you to tell me how good it feels when I fuck you, I want you to beg, I want you to fucking  _ scream _ for me…” 

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, fumbling for the doorknob. 

“Yeah.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
